It's All About an Invisible Man in the Sky, After All

Crossposted from Obama Can't Bowl

James Dobson (he's a Jerry Falwell for the 21st Century!) has accused Obama of "distorting" the Bible, apparently by suggesting that Jesus thought we should take care of the poor and stuff. I'm not sure where his objections lied. If you can better elucidate them in the comments section, I'd appreciate it, since the AP style typically dances around the actual content. Still, one quote jumped out at me, which was Dobson saying ""... He is dragging biblical understanding through the gutter."

If I may paraphrase the late, great George Carlin Bullshit! That's our fuckin' job!

Something For Your Reply to that E-mail from Your Cousin

Crossposted from Obama Can't Bowl

The Obama campaign understands that while Lady Internet is a valuable friend to any candidate with a message and a pulse, she is also a horrible bitch goddess that has no compunction against spreading all manner of lies about you. So, they've launched a Web site devoted to debunking all those wacky Obama rumors you see and hear on the Internet and right-wing talk radio.

Now, when you get one of those grammar-optional e-mails about flag pins, madrasses or anti-white rhetoric (though nothing yet about nerd pencils), you can just refer the person who sent it to you to fightthesmears.com. Granted, you could also send them to Snopes, but the type of cognitively dissonant person (read: dumbass) that sends that stuff along probably resents the Hell out of that particular site by now.

So Round, So Cool, So Fully-Packed

Crossposted from Obama Can't Bowl

Obama's fallen off the wagon in the last few months. What? He's an alcoholic? A coke head? A sex addict? Nope -- that's the last two guys who have held the office he seeks. Obama's particular addiction is tobacco. According to the Obama camp, however, he's back on the wagon and chewing away at the Nicorette, but he recently admitted that he has snuck a few cigarettes here and there while on the campaign trail.

I'm certainly in no position to judge in this case, having spent plenty of time as a closet smoker myself. There is a certain amount of benign deception involved. To sneak a cigarette, one must have a willingness to create elaborate justifications for one's behavior. You have to have the ability to appear to be doing one thing (taking out the trash, looking for firewood, heading out for a meeting to discuss the latest Zogby poll) when you really are doing another (furtively hot-boxing a heater and looking for a place to stash the butt*).

In other words, it's politics.

*Geez...it's still almost like I'm talking about Clinton, isn't it?

Somebody Call Ted Kennedy to Arrange the Necessary Overrides!

Crossposted from Grumpy Old White Guy:

John McCain misspoke and hilarity ensued for a moment. He meant to say, "I will veto every bill with earmarks," and accidentally said "I will veto every beer."

I haven't laughed this hard since George W's famous gaffe in 2002: "We must do everything we can to help our brave transsexual prostitutes...I mean, allies in the War on Transsexual Prostitutes... er, Terror. TRANSSEXUAL PROSTITUTES!!! I mean... God Bless You and God Bless the United States of America."

Check out this post at obamacantbowl.net. I wrote it. There's more where that came from.

I was having breakfast with my dad a few weeks back, and he told me this story:

My father grew up in Clinton, IA, and when he was four years old, he was riding the bus with his mother. At that time, 1942, it was common for people to keep chickens (I don't know if it was part of contributing to the war effort, or if it was simply a fact of mid-century life in a small city in Iowa, but I like the phrase "victory chickens," so I'm leaning toward the former). A heavy-set woman got on the bus with a crate of chicks she had just purchased, and as she was fumbling for her bus token, she dropped the crate.

Suddenly, there were chicks everywhere, scampering down the aisle and darting under the seats. As the poor woman was bent over, frantically trying to collect them all and put them back in the crate, she let off a tremendous fart.

The bus driver then turned and said, "that's right lady, if you can't find 'em, shoot 'em!"

I'm in Indianapolis this week. I have no column due, and no other pressing deadlines at the moment. I have time on my hands.

Time to watch some Betty Boop cartoons:



My folks were just visiting last weekend, and they brought a couple of $1 DVDs (thank you, public domain). One of them had a slew of Betty Boops on it, all of them surreal as Hell, and and most of them offensive in some way, shape or form. The one above was not on the disc, but this one was:



Whoof. It's always so hard to watch this stuff. How do you think Satchmo felt when he saw the ooga-booga native's floating head turn into his and then back again? Or, was he just happy to have the gig?

At about 9:30 tonight, my son told me he got a call from a friend who told him that he had lice and would I take a look at his head to see if he did? Oh, did he ever. The smaller ones were building condos at the nape of his neck, while the larger ones were over by his ear complaining about how the scalp was losing all its charm.

So now I have a new Web hosting service (i.e., one for which I am paying, and am not receiving by virtue of some work I did at the turn of the century). This entry is really more of a test to be sure it's all working correctly.

Besides, very few people come to this site, it seems. It makes the unlimited bandwidth option seem pretty silly, but on the other hand, that is one less obstacle to podcasting. Plus, for another thirty bucks a year, I don't have to worry about it. It's worth it.

So now I have a Twitter account, which seems to be designed to fill in all those little nooks and crannies of potential productivity left between Myspace, Facebook, LiveJournal, etc. It's a way to de-frag your slacking! Come! Follow me into the abyss of microblogging!

Were I more adept at such things, I’d figure out how to put a Twitter feed directly to this blog, my LiveJournal, my Myspace, my Facebook page...Hell, I’d figure out how to get my CD on iTunes. I’d figure out a lot of things.

By the way, I just googled the word, "twitteratti," hoping against hope that I’d coined the term (naturally, I had not), but a small handful of results down came this gem of a first line:

@twitteratti Flickr is in the DP group now thanks to @mroth .

Welcome to the future. We may not be wearing jumpsuits, but our language is.